


Slugs, snails & puppy dogs' tails

by jenny_wren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29794203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_wren/pseuds/jenny_wren
Summary: So what if Sirius was the half-blood Black living in the council house down the road from muggle-born James Potter?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Slugs, snails & puppy dogs' tails

  
  


Monty and Effie Potter were proudly ordinary sorts. They lived in a workaday town near the laboratories where Mr Potter was employed as an industrial chemist and dreamed of moving out to one of pretty nearby villages. That wouldn’t be for long while yet as they had two young sons to save for and provide with the very best start in life.

Still, as Effie turned the breakfast sausages, she was pardonably pleased with her life. They had four walls and a roof all their own. Each son had their own bedroom and a garden to play in with a park just down the road. When they had got engaged Monty had promised her the world, and although a three bedroom house by a roundabout could hardly be said to be the world, she in no way felt cheated – it wasn’t as if she’d have known what to do with the world anyway, she had enough trouble keeping their little trouble-makers out of mischief. (Monty always laughed when she said that).

So Effie felt her determined efforts to be a respectable English lady were paying off. Really there was only one unusual thing about the Potters and that was –

There was a knock on the back door.

It was a small boy in a shabby three piece black velvet suit that might actually be Victorian, it certainly looked Victorian enough. He could have stepped straight out of an oil painting, Effie was always surprised bigger boys hadn’t pushed him into a muddy puddle between his house and theirs. His long black hair, long even given the current fashion for men, was tied back with a black velvet ribbon to reveal a face that was aristocratically pale with a haughty bone structure that suggested his ancestors had spent their time being thoroughly high-handed and disagreeable. Pale grey eyes should have finished the elegant picture, but instead of being cool and remote they sparked with wild mischief, matching the boy’s bright grin.

Effie slid the sausages back under the grill and went to open the door.

“Good morning sweetheart.”

He balanced the large beribboned box he was carrying in one hand to wave frantically at her, “Good morning Misef.”

Amusingly Reggie was starting to use Sirius’ contraction of Mrs Effie in place of the too babyish Mummy. Even James, comfortably settled on Mum, used it occasionally when he thought the situation was important.

“Come on in. Careful now,” she steadied him with one hand as he shook his feet free of his clumpy boots, “that’s a big box.”

“It’s an important birthday,” he said solemnly.

Effie nodded as if she understood, although she didn’t. Sirius’ parents had a most peculiar set of traditions. She had asked around, carefully, in case it was her own ignorance showing, but none of the other wives of Monty’s work colleagues, or the mothers at the school gates, recognized them either. The general consensus was it was hippieish nonsense, but anybody less like hippies than Sirius’ parents were hard to imagine.

“Well it’s very kind of you, sweetheart. What is it?”

That was a rule. Sirius couldn’t give James or Reggie presents without clearing it with her or Monty first. This rule had been put in place after Sirius gave James an actual dagger for his seventh birthday. A real dagger, not some sort of fancy paperknife. The hilt had been plain, just wrapped in leather, and James had almost immediately sliced his thumb open when he tested the edge and her son’s bright red blood had splurted over the steel blade.

Effie had maybe shouted a bit. They hadn’t known Sirius for very long then and she hadn’t understood that Sirius’ grasp on normality was so shaky. She also hadn’t understood where the dagger had come from. They’d guessed, from the random selection of Christmas presents they’d received, that Sirius was regifting his own possessions and this turned out to be true of the dagger. Apparently Sirius’ appalling mother had decided a sharp-pointed dagger was the perfect birthday gift for her seven year old son. So Effie could hardly blame Sirius for turning around and handing it on to James. It was apparently some sort of heirloom as well which made it all worse.

Sirius’ devastating grey eyes had crumpled with hurt at the idea of his gift being rejected, he’d apparently cut off a hank of his own hair to wrap around the hilt just for James, and Effie had no idea what that was about but she could see it was important in the tremble of Sirius’ face. And from a purely practical point of view she hadn’t felt comfortable with handing that vicious weapon back to a small child, particularly a small child who was best friends with her own son.

Fortunately Monty, who was utterly unflappable and equal to anything, had said the dagger was for when they were older and for now it would be added to their shelf of treasures, which included Monty’s carefully preserved photograph of his family, and the faded pink silk ribbon from Effie’s first ball dress and the locket she’d strung from it.

Sirius’ eyes had glowed to see the dagger installed in a place of honor, and all three children were too awed to touch the treasures without permission, so that was one problem solved. Monty told her privately afterwards that James and Sirius could figure out the ownership of the dagger when they were older and Sirius had a better understanding of how much of a heirloom it truly was, because Monty was certain it was very old.

Effie was just glad no one was going to be accidentally stabbed in the meantime. She would have tried to speak to Sirius’ mother about it but something locked up inside her at the thought of approaching the woman and the idea would drift away, it wasn’t important anyway.

But the rule stayed. No presents without checking.

Sirius sighed like she was being deliberately difficult but wriggled the lid of the box free. The decorative ribbons had clearly been added with the intention of allowing the box to be opened without disrupting the wrapping and Effie felt a swell of love for the awkward little boy because Sirius tried _so hard_ to follow the rules. It wasn’t his fault the rulebook his mother enforced bore no relation to anything sane.

“See Misef,” Sirius waved the box lid through the air with a flourish. “Isn’t it perfect?”

Holding her breath and hoping for the best, Effie peered into the box.

It took her a moment to understand what she was seeing. At first it was only a lot of balls on sticks surrounded by a hoop of brass, but as she looked closer she could see it was a model of the solar system, Earth, a ball of blue and green, sat at the center with the other planets positioned around it, the brass hoop had the signs of zodiac engraved on it.

“Look, look.” Sirius bounced with excitement. “I set it to the day Reggie was born.”

And there was a brass dial on the wooden base that had indeed been cranked around so it showed Reggie’s date of birth, seven years ago today.

“I,” Effie stalled on something to say. It was clearly a valuable gift, but it was not the sort of gift you gave a seven year boy for his birthday. Even if you were convinced turning seven was an event. “Where did you ever find it?”

She knew Sirius had no money of his own, she’d suspect him of filching from his father’s wallet or his mother’s purse, but they had no money either. His father was on the dole and spent all his time down the pub, his mother acted as if money was something beneath her and ran permanent tabs at the local shops. Sirius apparently subsisted on his free school meals. Effie preferred not to think too hard about how he survived the school holidays before he met James. His mother must have cared more when he was littler – she had to have surely.

“It was in the attic. It was busted up and dirty but I cleaned it and reset the cogs and painted it so it’s all pretty.”

“That was very kind of you sweetheart.” Oh dear, what was she going to do. Sirius had obviously put a lot of effort into this gift and clearly thought it was an excellent one. At least her boys were well trained to show appreciation for any presents received.

“Isn’t it great?” Sirius waved his spread arms.

“It’s lovely.” It was lovely, and was a very clever piece of automata, but why could Sirius not be the sort of boy who pinched a pound note and bought a couple of water pistols that she could consign to the garden and not worry about.

“I wanted something Reggie could use,” said Sirius. “James will be jealous.” He grinned to himself.

And oh, that was one of the many reasons she wouldn’t have Sirius be anyone but himself. Effie worried about her youngest son. Reggie was a sweet, anxious boy, horribly outshone by his bigger brother. James was his father’s son and resilient to the bone; bright and charming and unafraid. The shadow he cast over his little brother was a long one.

Fortunately James was very good with his brother and she never had to nag him to include Reggie – but that caused its own set of problems. Several of James’ early friendships ended in scrabbling small boy fights and James resolutely refusing to apologize. Effie could never quite bring herself to force him, not when Reggie was there red and snotty with tears but watching his big brother with adoring eyes.

Sirius however included Reggie as a matter of course. He happily joined in with James giving piggy-backs when required, and Effie was almost certain it was Sirius who figured out Reggie could reach the lower branches of the more difficult trees if he stood on the bigger boys’ shoulders. That had led to one or two minor disasters but Effie considered them fair exchange for their tumbling excitement and grinning faces.

She wasn’t sure why Sirius had decided it was important for Reggie to know how to identify the sticky goosegrass, overgrown woodbine, pungent cow parsley, and other scraggy tangles of plants picked from around the edges of the park but he dragged the heavy glossy picture books back from the library and sat with Reggie as he worked slowly through them while James lay on his back and scowled at the ceiling as he practiced clearing his mind. Effie had no idea why Sirius thought meditation was important either but it got her peace and quiet for as much as ten minutes at a time so she thoroughly approved.

When they weren’t being worryingly quiet James and Sirius pushed, shoved, tussled and yelped like two rowdy young puppies but they were both careful of the fact Reggie was smaller and younger. And if Effie was concerned about the way Sirius would instinctively shove Reggie behind him when startled by a too close presence, or a too loud voice, well it wasn’t because of Reggie.

“Come along rascal, do you want to go and wake the birthday boy up? We’re having a full cooked breakfast today, it would be a shame if he was late.”

Sirius nodded eagerly. He levered the box onto the dining table to join the other presents sitting there ready, then ran up the stairs, his feet thumping loudly enough to rouse the rest of the household without even trying.

Effie went back to preparing breakfast, smiling as the noise from upstairs increased in volume until Monty was saying sternly,

“Boys. Quiet. Reggie, socks. James, books belong on the shelf. Sirius, fold them up _neatly_. Have you all washed your hands?”

There were muted apologies, more thumping and then her three boys crashed down the stairs and hit the kitchen like a force ten storm. Monty sauntered after them, chivvying them into seats at the table.

Sirius had shed his ridiculous suit and was wearing a pair of James’ trousers. He was slightly shorter than James, so now all James’ trousers had tatty ends from where they scuffed against the ground when Sirius wore them. Effie was genuinely considering buying Sirius his own sets of school trousers next school year. She couldn’t bring herself object to the sharing, Sirius couldn’t go to school in velvet. Even the shirt he was still wearing had lace at the collar and cuffs. She had no idea what his parents were thinking. Or if they were actually thinking anything, she hadn’t much evidence to suggest their son was of any importance to them.

Walburga Black had, as the saying goes, married down and seemed determined to be as unpleasant as possible to everyone around her to ensure they regretted her choices as much as she did herself. Her husband appeared equally determined to make the world pay for the fact his wife despised him.

Effie had technically married down herself, although given her change in circumstances she’d have been unlikely to do better than Monty (not that she believed there was better than Monty) and she had no patience with the pair of them. They had a lovely little boy and took no more care of him than one would a stray cat.

She set a plate in front of Sirius and tried not to notice how his eyes lit up as he sniffed the food. She crouched to draw him into a hug and dropped a kiss on his forehead making him wriggle like a happy puppy.

“You’re a good boy,” she told him because she didn’t think he heard it enough.

“Darling,” said Monty, and she jolted back into motion, handing him his plate with a kiss, before moving onto James.

“And you, my big boy,” she hugged him as he squirmed with indignation,

“Mu-um,” he whined.

“You’re not too big for a kiss.”

“Mum,” he sighed but obediently held still. She kissed him then straightened up, ruffled his shaggy dark hair (heredity I’m afraid, said Monty) and passed him his plate.

“And now the birthday boy.” She swooped on Reggie. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“Mummy, I’m seven now.”

“Yes you are, why that’s almost grown-up.”

“It’s a convence of met-phiscal fluences, Sirius said.”

Every now and then Effie took a moment to be deeply thankful Sirius was not the sort of boy who enjoyed terrorizing the neighborhood cats or other acts of vicious mischief.

“Yes dear,” she said. “How about you eat your sausages.”

“Say thank you to your mother,” Monty prompted.

She received a ragged chorus of thanks and then they were eating with the hungry determination of young wolves.

“Mummy,” said Reggie after he’d eaten most of his sausages and none of his tomatoes. “Can I open Sirius’ present to me now?”

“We open presents in evening after dinner, you know that Reggie,” said Monty.

“I know, but _just_ Sirius’s. So he can see.”

“Is Sirius not coming for dinner?”

“If he can. But if he’s excited and wants to do something his mummy will make him come home so she can stop him going.”

Both James and Sirius looked mortified at this breach in not-telling etiquette.

“Reggie,” growled James, dropping in his seat and, Effie was certain, swiping under the table with his legs in an attempt to kick his brother. Reggie prudently tucked his feet up onto his chair.

“But she does, and I want Sirius to see.”

Sirius, giving up on trying to look as if embarrassment wasn’t eating him alive, flopped sideways below the line of the table and into James. James huffed and pulled on his negotiating with the grown-ups face. Effie could see the lines of Monty’s adult face laid over James’ small boy softness. Under the table she reached out and squeezed Monty’s hand.

“I think Reggie should be allowed to open one present before we go to school, not because of anything Reggie said, but because it _extends the anticipation_.” He nodded to himself, pleased at getting the correct words. “That’s a good thing, right? You always try and make us open our presents more slowly. And this will mean Reggie opens his presents really, really slowly.”

“Well done James,” said Monty, “that is an excellent argument. And Reggie you’re a good boy for wanting Sirius see you open his present. Therefore we will allow the opening of one present before school to extend the anticipation. After we’ve finished breakfast.”

“Thanks Dad,” said James but the too adult look was still in his eyes as he bent his head to talk quietly to Sirius.

“Reggie, you need to eat your tomatoes too,” Effie said quickly.

“But Mummy –”

“Tomatoes.”

Reggie sulkily started to poke at his tomatoes. Effie and Monty resumed eating and, after whispered prodding from James, Sirius cautiously emerged from below the table. When nobody said anything, he took a tentative forkful of egg, then – as Monty and Effie continued to project not paying him any attention – settled down into eating again.

Effie sighed and Monty leaned over to give her a quick half-hug. She wished there was something that could be done about Sirius’ situation. She had mentioned it to the school, but apparently that had already been tried. Sirius’ kindergarten teacher had referred him to Social Services almost immediately but that hadn’t gone anywhere, and just led to poor little Sirius asking Miss Christenson why she didn’t like him anymore.

“Chin up, darling,” said Monty quietly, then more loudly, “Reggie you’re supposed to be eating that tomato not just spreading it round the plate.”

“Two more forkfuls sweetheart,” said Effie. “Then you can open Sirius’ present. It’s the one in the big box.”

“Oooh,” Reggie eyed the box greedily and had eaten the tomato almost before he noticed. Then Effie cleared the plates away, while Monty moved the box in front of Reggie – he sent her urgent eyebrows when he felt the weight of it, and she smiled and nodded back. James and Sirius scooted around the table to stand behind Reggie as he rocked up onto his knees on the chair so he could more easily reach the lid. With both hands he wriggled the lid free and looked inside.

Effie held her breath.

“Ooooh,” said Reggie, “it’s a plantrium. Thank you Sirius.” He flung his arms around Sirius in a hug, braining Sirius with the box lid he was still holding and almost toppling himself off the chair. James grabbed his shirt and hauled him back and they resorted themselves with a minimum of scuffling.

“Planetarium,” corrected Monty quietly. He raised his eyebrows at Effie and she just shrugged helplessly. It wasn’t as if she could offer any explanation for the strangeness of Sirius, she was just glad this present had no sharp edges.

“Look James, look. Sirius got me a plan-et-ar-ium.”

“Yeah pretty cool,” agreed James, jostling his brother with one hand and reaching around him to slap Sirius on the back with the other.

“I set it to your date of birth,” Sirius pointed out eagerly. “I couldn’t do the hours and minutes though.”

“Wow, look at the planets, James. And you can see the star signs.”

Satisfied everything was under control, Effie took Monty’s arm and drew them both back.

“I can see you restraining your astrology is bunkum lecture,” she teased quietly.

“I will be so glad when James and Sirius start proper science lessons.”

“Poor darling.” She kissed his cheek in sympathy.

“It could be worse. At least whatever system he’s working on has no truck with homeopathy.”

Effie smiled. With his work in medical research homeopathy struck a lot closer to home for Monty and he considered it actively dangerous, whereas astrology was mere foolishness. Fortunately Sirius apparently hadn’t even heard of homeopathy before, and once it was explained to him and looked just as shocked as Monty could have desired.

“But that’s silly, surely even m- ordinary people don’t believe that? How would that work?” He tilted his head as far as he could to the left as if trying to look at things from upside down.

“It doesn’t work,” said Monty. “That’s why I put in hours at the laboratory, to make things that actually work and can be tested and proved to do so.”

“Uh huh. Potions for ordinary people, James said. You took him to work and he saw the laboratories and everything.” Sirius waved both hands through the air to fully express everything.

Monty had winced at potions but, as he told Effie later, Sirius had seemed so impressed that arguing terminology would have been mean-spirited.

“Next time Dad’s work has an open day, we’ll all go,” said James confidently.

Sirius had nodded his head enthusiastically. For all his odd conception of science, he was very much a little scientist in training. He was as excited as James and Reggie about the children’s experiments Monty set up for them, and of the three was the most dedicated to the idea of keeping a lab book, so Monty bit his tongue over Sirius’ insistence on recording the phase of the moon along with date, time, and temperature.

“It’s physical data,” he told Effie. “Can’t argue with that.”

Effie refocused on more immediate problems as James and Sirius started trying to help Reggie extract the planetarium from its box. She could see about a dozen ways that could go wrong, and it would be nice if Sirius’ present survived the day. Rushing forward, she grabbed the box to steady it as Monty scooped up Reggie.

“There we go, the present has been seen and admired. Sirius, it was lovely of you to get Reggie such a nice present.”

“Thank you Sirius,” said Reggie. James scuffed at Sirius’ shirt, picked him up, and dropped him which apparently meant much the same thing. Sirius laughed, thumped James on the back, and said,

“I’m glad you liked it Reggie. Happy birthday.”

“Yeah, happy birthday, squirt,” James tugged at his brother’s foot.

Effie gave all her boys kisses, ignoring James’ squirms, “Alright it’s time for you to head off to school.”

Monty carried Reggie over to the door in an attempt at head start but it was still all scrambling chaos for five minutes until the three boys had shoes – Sirius was wearing the trainers they’d bought him for his birthday, they were starting to get scruffy, Effie hadn’t decided what to do about that yet – school bags, snacks, appropriate completed homework and books for the day.

Finally they clattered out the door and Effie heaved a sigh of relief.

“That went surprisingly well,” said Monty.

Effie nodded in thankful agreement, “One seventh birthday successfully scraped through. We are birthday professionals. Nothing is going to phase us now.”

Then two years later James turned eleven.

  
  



End file.
